The Elusive Norrington
by geekmama
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow receives some assistance from a most unexpected source... A complete, one-shot written for the Norrington Challenge at the FanFicCollective, an MSN Group


**Disclaimer:** Disney's, mostly. 

**_The Elusive Norrington_**

Jack hissed as the blade sliced deep into his left shoulder, clean through coat, shirt, skin and muscle. 

"Give it up, Sparrow, we've got you!"

The rotten bugger was right too. There were three of them left, the two he'd eliminated having moved out of range to nurse their wounds and watch as their comrades hacked at him. The remaining assailants' enthusiasm was far greater than their skill. Backed against the wall of this filthy and out-of-the-way alley, he'd managed to parry their blows, but they were bigger than he, and younger, and he had known he was tiring even before the burly fellow with the missing front tooth managed to slip under his guard. He knew now, from the way it didn't hurt yet, that it was bad. And if he'd been tired before, loss of this much blood would surely lay him out: he could feel it soaking into his coat and running down his arm.

He rallied once more, anger and determination lending him strength, and one more of his attackers was eliminated by the bite of his blade. And then—a miracle! A tall, dark man wearing a frieze coat and a hat that somehow hid half his face was running toward them, drawing a remarkably beautiful sword as he came on. 

"Leave off, you blackguards!" roared an oddly familiar voice, and Jack's hope soared as the tall man attacked the remaining ruffians. Coming fresh to the fight, Jack's savior beat down the dismayed villains and got a couple of good cuts in before the two turned and ran, yelling for their previously injured comrades to follow. The tall man gave chase, the fire of battle not at all quenched in him, but he stopped halfway down the alley as the group disappeared around the corner. 

Jack had dropped his sword when his enemies had turned tail, and clutched his bleeding shoulder as hard as he could. He leaned back against the alley wall, his chest heaving, but his knees were suddenly shaking and he found himself sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. Nausea assailed him, and from the sparkly darkness at the edges of his vision he realized he was about to faint.

"Sparrow! Jack! Good God! Here!"

Jack took a deep breath, and shook his head to clear it. "Who are you?" he asked the man, who crouched beside him and produced a small, elegant silver flask. "Thanks, mate!" The fellow put the flask to Jack's lips and tipped it carefully. The pirate took a deep sip. "Ahhh. Mother's Milk," he sighed as the heavenly elixir burned its way down his parched throat.

There was a sound of wry amusement in the man's voice as he said, "Don't you know me, then? I quite thought you would recognize the sword, at least!"

Jack frowned, and peered at his rescuer, willing the fuzziness of his vision to clear. It did. Enough. "Norrington?" he gasped in disbelief.

"None other," said the Commodore, his characteristic smirk appearing. Along with a bloody great knife!

"Here! Wha's that for?" demanded Jack, his voice too close to betraying fear.   

"Move your hand," Norrington said, in his cool, no-nonsense way, but then pried Jack's hand away with his own fingers and proceeded to cut away the fabric covering Jack's wounded arm.

"That's me coat!" Jack said, through gritted teeth, for with the pressure of his hand removed the wound had begun to hurt like the very devil. 

"The blood has ruined it anyway," said Norrington, calmly. He laid bare the wound, which was bleeding profusely again. 

"How bad is it?" Jack asked, trying to look.

"You'll live," Norrington said, "But you'll need it taken care of as soon as may be. Give me your sash." Again, he didn't wait for a response, but began to untie the long sash at Jack's waist.

"What the devil are you doing here?" Jack asked, finding this whole scenario almost as 'interesting' as the cursed pirate adventure had been not quite two years ago. He sat forward a bit so Norrington could remove the sash.

"It's rather a long story, and this is hardly the place to go into it. For the moment, let it suffice to say I am here on government business."

"Oh, aye? Different sort of uniform for government business, I'd say. You look like a bloody highwayman. And no wig! It quite suits you."

Norrington chuckled again. "I'm incognito, for the moment. And if the occasion arises you may call me Marivale."

"Marivale?" Jack winced as Norrington wrapped his wounded arm with efficient expertise. "Done that a time or two, have you?" he said conversationally.

"Yes. Once or twice. Brace yourself: this is going to hurt." He pulled on the ends of the sash to tighten it enough to stem the bleeding.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and a string of colorful curses came from between his clenched teeth.  Norrington stopped pulling and tied the ends of the sash while Jack sat gasping and fighting down nausea. Unsuccessfully. "Oh-Jesus-I'm-going-to-be-sick!" he said, and turned away from the Commodore barely in time. The Commodore seemed not only undismayed, but gathered Jack's trinket laden hair in his hands and held it back out of the way.

When it was over, Jack sat up again, his back against the wall, dizzy and weak, and utterly confused. Chest heaving, he peered at Norrington and said, "Thanks. You're a bloody good nurse, Commodore, but I have a hard time believin' this isn't a dream, if you get me drift."

"It's Marivale. And yes, it is something of a bizarre circumstance. Do you think you can walk? I'm a little concerned that those ruffians may return with reinforcements."

"I can try. How far? I mean…the _Pearl's_ on the other side o' this island, bein' careened. I came 'round to see what information I could get on the Treasure Ships. Was stayin' with a friend o' mine, but I ain't goin' back to her in case those devils come lookin' for me again."

"No, I'll take you to my rooms. I'm staying at a little inn on the edge of town. One of the nicer establishments, actually."

"Well, that sounds quite delightful!" Jack said, mimicking the Commodore's accent.

Norrington chuckled again (to Jack's amazement). "Up you get, then, Captain Sparrow."  

Jack struggled to his feet with a great deal of help from the Commodore, who was noticeably careful about avoiding jostling the injured arm. The pirate stood swaying for a moment, as blackness momentarily swept vision away, but when it cleared he looked at Norrington. "Y'know, anyone who's kind enough to hold ol' Jack's hair while he vomits his guts out is more'n welcome to use his Christian name."

Norrington gave a snort of laughter. "Why thank you, Jack. And you may call me Jim, for the nonce. Jim Marivale, mind you!"

"Jim it is, then," Jack nodded. He took a couple of unsteady steps, alongside Norrington. "Whoa." Jack gave the Commodore a sidelong glance. "You won't mind lendin' me the support o' your arm should I need it?"

"Not at all, Jack. It will be my pleasure."

"Will it?" Jack said. Suddenly suspicious, he said, "Don't know why you're bein' so bloody nice to me but I'm bettin' it ain't 'cause o' me handsome phiz."

"No, you are quite right. But you needn't worry: the payment I shall exact won't be too steep for your notoriously well-lined pockets. Now, shall we adjourn from this rather noisome locality?"

"Noisome. It is, innit? All right then, mate. Lead the way."

*****************

It turned out to be a quite a long trek to Norrington's lodgings (or Jack thought so, at any rate). They didn't talk much on the way, pain and weakness keeping Jack uncharacteristically silent and Norrington speaking only of incidentals designed to distract Jack and keep him alert enough to walk. It had been dusk when he'd been attacked, and evening had come full on by the time a comfortable looking inn came into view, laying amid large trees, just off the main road into the town from which they'd come.

Norrington helped Jack across the threshold and into the warm light of the house. 

"Land sakes, what have we here, Mr. Marivale!" 

Jack looked up and his bleary gaze lit on a plump, motherly woman in a mobcap and apron, concern and a little suspicion on her plain but pleasant countenance. And no wonder, he thought: he must look a sight, hanging on Norrington like a drunkard, the sleeve of his coat half off and blood all down his side.

"This is an old friend of mine, Mrs. Martin, set upon by ruffians in the town!" said Norrington glibly. " I was fortunate to come upon him when I did—I fear he would be dead else. A doctor should be summoned. He has a severe wound on his shoulder that must be tended."

"Oh, the poor young man! Indeed, I will send for Doctor Hastings immediately! Bob! _Bob!!_ Here I say!"

Jack winced as the lady called loudly and imperatively for her underling. 

Bob, a beefy young man with an oddly incurious gaze, trotted out from the direction of what smelled like the kitchen—Jack suddenly realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast—followed by an older man, just as beefy and even taller than Bob, with thick gray hair and a leather apron. He was eating a nicely browned chicken leg. Jack's mouth watered.

"What's the to-do, Peg?" said the older man. He looked Jack up and down. 

"This here's a friend of Mr. Marivale's, Brian. Set upon in the town! Have you ever heard the like!"

"Well, of course I have, and so have you! But it's a shame nonetheless. Bob, go fetch Doctor Hastings and be quick about it." 

Bob touched his forelock to the assembled company and took himself off.

Brian said to Norrington, "You'll allow me to assist you, sir?"

"I would greatly appreciate it, as would my friend, I assure you."

Jack was led to the narrow staircase, which presumably went up to the Commodore's rooms. It looked very long and steep.

"I couldn't just stay down here?" he said, without much hope.

"Come on Jack, just a little farther and you can rest."

It seemed a great deal more than a little farther to Jack, but between Beefy Brian and Mysterious Jim they managed to get him into the comfortable rooms that had been allotted to the Commodore. 

"Here, son, you sit right here and we'll take care o' you," said Brian, leading him to sit on a hard chair at the table that lay at one side of the front room. 

It wasn't a bed, but at least he was off his feet. Jack, feeling rather sick again, lay his head down on the table and ignored the bustling and talking in the background. The sounds had almost faded completely away, in fact, when someone began shaking his good arm. "Huh?" He sat up abruptly and winced as his hurt shoulder moved slightly. 

"Can you get up, Jack?" Norrington was saying. "We want to get you cleaned up and into a nightshirt before the doctor arrives."

Jack blinked at his surroundings. Several lamps had been lit, and there was a nice fire going. Near the fire a large basin of steaming water and a pile of towels had been set. Bloody considerate of Norrington. Who, along with Beefy Brian was waiting to strip him and wash him down. And a nightshirt. When the hell was the last time he'd worn one of those?

"Not that I don't appreciate your efforts, but I believe I can attend to it meself, mate. And nightshirts have sleeves, in case you hadn't noticed."

Norrington's self-possessed smirk appeared. "As you wish, Jack. But the innkeeper has brought you one of his own nightshirts, and cut the sleeve off of it for you."

"He didn't have to do that!" Jack protested, getting to his feet. And then abruptly sat down again. "Bloody hell!" he muttered, shaking his head against the blackness clouding his vision. He heard two pairs of heavy footsteps approaching, and sighed, resigning himself. 

A quarter of an hour later, he was being pressed into a comfortable wingback chair, dressed in nothing but a one sleeved nightshirt that hung on him as though he were a stripling, his arm, in a new temporary dressing, aching abominably. Norrington had taken the makeshift bandage off and had carefully washed the wound, which still bled sluggishly.

"Ruined that pretty tattoo there," Beefy Brian had observed. "Take, oh, maybe a dozen stitches to close it good. No worries, son: Dr. Hastings is a wonder with needle and catgut."

"Lovely," muttered Jack, quite dreading Dr. Hastings' advent.

Now the innkeeper said, with grating cheer, "I'll just run down and get you gentlemen a bite to eat. And a nice bottle of rum, to take the edge off like." He took up the pile of used towels and the basin and went out. Norrington shut the door behind him.

The Commodore dragged a chair over to the fire and sat down opposite Jack. Jack eyed him, not smiling.

"You need to try to eat a little," Norrington said. "The doctor will undoubtedly have some kind of opiate to give you, but you must be able to keep it down."

Jack rolled his eyes and swore foully. "I _hate_ bein' drugged."

"Well, it's either that, or I can sit on you and hold you down while he sews you up. I must say I didn't think you'd be such a coward about it."

Jack looked insulted, but said nothing. 

"I mean, considering what sort of …er…painful adventures you've obviously been through previous to this. And the tattoos!"

Jack said, in a voice between a growl and a pout, "I was quite wonderfully and thoroughly drunk when I got the tattoos, thank you very much.  And as for the rest, how do you bloody know I didn't shriek an' bawl like a stuck pig, eh?"

Norrington began to snort with amusement at this picture. "Did you? Really?"

"No! O' course I didn't!" snapped Jack, angrily. "Leastways, not most of it. But that don't mean I'm used to such things. Or lookin' forward to seein' said sawbones." He closed his eyes. "Bloody hell. I'm so tired."

Jack would have been quite astonished and not a little taken aback if he had been able to see Norrington's face at that moment. But he only heard the cool, wryly amused voice say, "Who were those men, Jack? Why'd they attack you?"

Jack sighed again. "It was a little misunderstanding, between this other Captain an' me. He was somehow under the impression I'd be willin' to commit various and sundry unnatural acts with 'im in the privacy of his chambers, and I had to go to rather extreme methods to persuade him otherwise."

"Good God!" Norrington said, laughter in his voice. "What did you do?"

"Chucked 'im in the harbor." 

"Really?" Norrington began to chuckle.

Jack's eyes opened and he could not help smiling at Norrington's mirth.

"Oh, I would love to have seen it!" Norrington shook his head.

Jack grinned. "Aye. It was a fair sight, sure enough. Only then, well not then, but a bit later, he set his toughs on me. I think they only wanted to drag me back there to 'im, but I wasn't havin' any o' that. An' that pretty much brings us up to date, don't it?"

"Yes," said Norrington. "Yes it does."

A knock sounded on the door.  Jack stiffened, eyes widening momentarily.

"It's dinner, I think," said the Commodore.

It was. Brian Martin and his wife bustled in with trays, and soon the two men were being served some most delicious victuals, including the rest of the perfectly roasted chicken, a steak and kidney pie, a nice ripe cheddar cheese, fresh bread and butter, a syllabub, a blancmange, apples, oranges, and a selection of tropical fruits and nuts. Norrington, complimenting his host and hostess in his usual cultured manner before they bowed themselves out, set to with a will. Jack nibbled on a bit of chicken, a spoonful of blancmange, and a slice of unbuttered bread. There was rum at hand, but Jack only drank a little, and that well watered. Norrington made inroads on a bottle of very good wine.

It was half an hour later when another knock sounded and the innkeeper opened the door to let in a neatly dressed, bearded gentleman with a cold but cheerful eye, like that of a bird, and a black bag. Jack eyed him with foreboding.  

"You are my patient, young man?" Doctor Hastings said briskly to Jack.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Aye, I am, but I'll wager you're maybe a sight younger'n me so I'll thank you to show a bit of respect. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

The doctor's brows rose, and he looked a little startled. "Cap…THE Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Norrington's lips twitched, watching Jack look down his nose at the doctor. Even without his usual accoutrements the pirate had an air of authority about him. There were not many men who could maintain their dignity dressed only in an enormous nightshirt with one sleeve, but Jack Sparrow was one of them.

"I am…honored to meet you!" said the doctor. "You have had a little accident, I take it?" He motioned to the bandage on Jack's sleeveless arm.

Jack wilted, but only very slightly. "Aye. A deep cut from a sword."

Norrington said, "I have cleaned the wound but it will need to be stitched, I'm afraid. Do you have some appropriate anesthetic?"

"Yes, indeed!" said the Doctor. "I will prepare a very effective sedative. But first, let me examine you, briefly, Captain."

Jack submitted to this with only slight reluctance. The doctor listened to Jack's heart, peered into his eyes, and finally unwrapped and examined the wound. "Ah yes.  This should heal nicely once we stitch it closed. But your pulse is quite elevated: you have lost a great deal of blood. I am a little worried about sedation…"

Norrington said, "You needn't be concerned Doctor Hastings. I have experience in these matters and will be here to take care of him."

"Indeed?" said the Doctor, looking at Norrington. 

Jack was looking at him, too, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Norrington said, looking at Jack, "Yes. There is no need to be concerned. You can trust me."

***********************

It was early in the afternoon two days later when Jack's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at the ceiling, and around the room as best he could without moving. He was still laying abed—Norrington's bed, an enormous, goose down filled, soft-sheeted monstrosity. He still felt weak as a cat: there was absolutely no desire to do anything. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was thirsty. And hungry!

But the fever he'd had the day before was gone. No more aching, except in his shoulder, where all those stitches were. But even that was thankfully dulled now. And would stay that way until he moved it. But even that would be bearable. Maybe in a day or two he'd be able to go back to Molly…

The bedroom door opened.

"You are awake!"

It was Norrington. And he was dressed for travel.

"You're leaving?" Jack asked, surprise and a little dismay creeping into his voice, rather to his chagrin.

"On the evening tide. But there are things we need to discuss first." Norrington closed the door and came and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I am most gratified to see that you are on the road to recovery. Are you thirsty? Would you like some water?"

"Aye," said Jack, moving to sit up a little. Norrington leaned toward him and assisted him in placing an extra pillow at his back. Then the Commodore handed him the cup that sat on the table by the bed. Jack drank down the water, which was sweetened with a little rum, then handed the cup back. "Much obliged, _Jim_." He watched Norrington settle himself again, and said, slowly, "I'm feelin' a bit more like me old self. And, as grateful as I am for your timely assistance in dispursin' those nasties, and then nursin' me back to health besides, I have to tell you I've been askin' meself: why'd ye do it? I mean, two years ago you were fair itchin' to get a rope 'round me neck . An' now…well, I have to say your willingness to assist me humble self seems nothin' short o' miraculous, really. No offense intended, of course, mate."

"None taken," Norrington said. He looked at Jack in silence for a long moment. Then he said, "I did a great deal of thinking, after our little affair two years ago. It was difficult for me at first. But I came to the conclusion that things are not always so black and white as I had thought. And that one could not paint all pirates with the same brush."

Jack nodded. "I'd heard you'd been more discriminating in your choice of quarry of late."

"Yes. As has the _Black Pearl_." Jack said nothing, so Norrington spelled it out. "You've not attacked an English ship or town in all these two years."

Unthinking, Jack shrugged his left shoulder, then winced at the pain, and laid his right hand protectively over the bandaged area. "Spanish and French have more money, " he said glibly. 

"But that's not your only reason," Norrington said.

Jack looked at Norrington. _You can trust me._ "No," he said finally. "That's not the only reason."

The Commodore nodded. "We are at war with France and Spain. That is what brings me here, in this guise. I have several times, over the last couple of years, taken leave of my command and gone out to gather information. I am fortunate enough to have a knowledge of the Spanish tongue as well as the French, and I find that I am quite suited to the task."

"It's bloody dangerous, that. Spyin'." Jack's tone held a hint of disapproval.

"Yes. It can be." Norrington's little smile appeared, and there was a glint in his eye.

Jack smiled crookedly. "Wouldn't have thought it would appeal to you, but there you go. Grows on you, don't it? Danger?"

"Yes. I find it most stimulating. Which brings me to my point. The…er…payment we spoke of, night before last."

Jack nodded. "Apparently it ain't me hide you're after any more. What is it, then?"

"The war with Spain is heating up. Has been for some time. You said you were gathering information regarding the movements of the Spanish."

"The Treasure Ships."

"Yes. I want that information, and any other you have concerning the Spanish. Or the French."

Jack frowned.  "I have to ask meself, if I give you this information, how this will effect the _Black Pearl_?"

"It will have no adverse effect, I assure you."

"No?"

"None." Norrington eyed Jack speculatively, then added, "And if you had a Letter of Marque it would only be of benefit."

"A Letter of Marque!" Jack shook his head. "We'd need a pardon for that, wouldn't we now, Jim? You sayin' you could give us that?"

"I think it might be arranged. With my influence. And that of the Turners. Governor Swann dotes on his grandsons, and thinks Elizabeth quite walks on water."

"Grandsons! They've had more'n one already?" Jack exclaimed, grinning in amazement.

Norrington grinned too. "Twins, actually."

"Twins!" Jack laughed, genuinely delighted. "So young Will ain't a eunuch after all!"

Norrington looked a bit startled at this. "A eunuch! I should say not! Whatever gave you such an idea?"

"Nothin'! No…just an old jest, really. Twins!"

"Yes. James Weatherby and John William."

"James. For you?" Jack asked.

The Commodore nodded. "And they call the younger one Jack."

Jack stared, quite speechless.

Norrington said, "They would like to see you again. We have spoken of it. And with a Letter of Marque…"

"I could sail right up to the dock at Port Royal." Jack shook his head. "Hard to wrap me mind 'round that one, mate."

"Well. Think about it."

Jack nodded. "I will."

"And now…"

Jack cocked an eyebrow. Then remembered. "Oh. Information. Right. Let's see…"

******************

Half an hour later Jack was quenching his thirst again when there came a knock on the door.

Norrington, who had been finishing up jotting down a few cryptic notes in a little book he carried, looked up. "Ah. She's here."

"She?" said Jack. "Who's _she_?"

"Your nurse." The Commodore rose. "You didn't think I'd leave you to fend for yourself, did you? After all my care of you these last two days?"

Jack looked rather uncomfortable. "I'm…look…I'm…"

Norrington shook his head. "You'd have done the same for me."

Jack thought about this. "Aye," he said finally. "Likely enough."

Norrington smiled, and turned away, and went to open the door. "Come in, my dear," Jack heard him say.

Jack stared at the woman who walked in, sweet-faced and simply dressed, her brown hair hidden beneath a remarkably pretty hat. "Molly!" he exclaimed, both joy and astonishment in his voice. He looked a question at Norrington.

The Commodore shrugged. "You don't remember telling me of her, I suppose. It was yesterday, when you were fevered."

Molly came rushing over now. "Oh, my dear! How dreadful it must have been!" She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned to carefully embrace Jack. 

Jack said, with a pitiful air, "It was that bad! Sorry I couldn't send word."

"I was dreadful flummoxed when you didn't come home night before last! I just knew something terrible had happened!" She sat up and looked at him closely. "Will you be all right, then?"

"It was a near thing, but I'll pull through, thanks to Jim here." Molly turned to smile at the Commodore, and Jack, observing the sardonic look on Norrington's face, had difficulty preserving his own gravity.

The Commodore said gravely, "It is quite true that the injury was very serious. However, my concern now is for myself. You seem to become extremely garrulous when you are taken with fever, Sparrow. I find I desire to return to Port Royal for a little peace and quiet, and am therefore leaving you to the mercies of Miss Hatter."

"And what lovely mercies they are, too!" Jack said, and grinned at Molly when she turned and gave him a pink-cheeked look of admonishment.

"Indeed. I'll take my leave of you now," said Norrington. He opened the bedroom door. "You won't forget to think about my…er…proposal?"

Jack's eyes were suddenly serious, though he still smiled. "I won't forget. That, or anything else."

Norrington nodded. "Until we meet again, then." He gave a slight bow, and went out, but before he shut the door he turned back, lips quirking at the sight of Miss Hatter embracing the pirate once more. "By the way…" Miss Hatter turned, and the two looked at him. "I've paid the shot here for the remainder of the week. Hopefully you will soon be in the mood to partake of Mrs. Martin's culinary delights."

"Oh, I think I just might at that!" said Jack. "Thank you, Co…Jim."

"You're welcome, Jack. Madam?" Norrington nodded a goodbye, and shut the door.

Molly turned to Jack. "Well! I can't tell you how surprised and relieved I was when he showed up at the shop to tell me what happened! He's so gentlemanly, but so odd, too!"

Jack said, "Believe me, you don't know the half of it, love," and pulled her down for a kiss. 


End file.
